One of Us
by 666Neme666
Summary: "Did you really believe that you can be one of them? You thought you knew better by now. You are such a fool…" They wanted you to surprise them. You did exactly that. – Written in Harry's P.O.V., AU, quite obviously. Rating just to be safe. Warnings inside.
1. The Incident

**Warnings**: light **_slash_,** just teasing really. Because you all drive me crazy with your no-slash fics. Also, light Avengers bashing – they are good guys but can be a little bit too full of themselves.

**Many thanks to my brilliant beta, '_Lucy in the Sky with Dimonds'_. I just love you. :D**

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, of course.

_It's in Harry's PoV!_

* * *

**One of Us**

You know you were a fool.

But honestly, who could blame you? After leaving the wizarding world behind, you lived like a hermit for… well, you don't know the exact time. But after going out into the Muggle world again, you felt like it's been a century. Or more.

Being the Master of Death meant you had no place among wizards. Not because they wouldn't have accepted you – besides, you are pretty sure none of them could stop or capture you, even if they wanted to, as with the fancy title came some fancy powers too – but because it was too painful for _you_. Everyone was aging and you were, quite clearly, _not_.

After realizing this thanks to a freak accident, you did what felt like the best solution and fled. Thinking about a desolated place far from civilization, you apparated before you could change your mind. Not the safest method, but you cared little about safety.  
It was just your luck that somewhere out there, a place like that existed; a small meadow, deep in a forest with nothing surrounding it but miles of wild nature. With the help of your magic, you managed to build a house and live a relatively peaceful life; not counting the nightmares and the Blast-Ended Skrewt which you still don't know _how in Merlin's name_ could has gotten there.

So when a man named Agent Coulson knocked on your door, you were too shocked to even protest much.

You don't know how they found you – frankly, you just don't care. They gave you a place to stay, introduced you to a bunch of odd people and told you that you are now an Avenger too. Hurray.

Apparently, a guy called Loki had been wreaking havoc in America since about four months ago. First in New York, but when the city was mostly cleared out, he popped up in random cities to make things more… _exciting_. When you asked them why they needed you here, the most useful answer you got was something along the line of 'The more the merrier'.

You were sceptical first. Who wouldn't be? The only thing S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about you was that you won the last war of the magical people, or 'heavy drug addicts' as Tony Stark called them behind your back. None of them really believed in magic, but they were getting desperate. Apparently, killing off some weird named terrorist guy while under the influence of drugs qualified enough to join the Avengers.

You came here a little bit more than two months ago. Whenever Loki appeared, you went with the rest of the team to fight. But while those dressed up monkeys went around destroying buildings and trying to shoot the god of mischief down, you stayed back and got the civilians to safety. At moments like those, you were pretty sure this was your only purpose.

The Avengers accepted you with open arms. Warm smiles and friendly '_how are you_'s followed you everywhere. Okay, maybe your standards were a little but low after Snape and Voldemort (and Hermione when you accidently set one of the many books on fire), but you were pretty sure they were not bothered by your presence.

But now… They can say that you are welcomed here as much as they want and that you are equal to them, but you know it's just not true. You are sitting among them at the table and still you are alone. Natasha and Barton are in their own little world, Thor is in the middle of a long and eventful anecdote with Bruce and Steve hanging on his every word, and Tony is desperately trying to make an arse out of himself by cutting in every conversation. Nobody notices you.

When you drop your fork into your plate the noise makes everybody stop for a moment. Natasha turns to you worriedly and asks you if you are all right.

"I feel just _brilliant_, thank you." The sarcasm in your tone would even make Snape proud.

But Natasha's frown turns into an easy smile as she says "Yeah, I can see that. You are almost glowing" and the others around the table nod in agreement, all of them smiling.

You are not sure if she is really that dumb, you are such a good actor, or they are all just mocking you; probably the latter. You sit there blinking for just a moment, but that's enough for Stark to butt in.

"Hey, Oz, we never saw you actually doing magic. Show us some tricks" When the others begin to cheer and position themselves so they can see more doesn't help your mood at all. But you send a forced smile to the arrogant man and ask if pulling a gold coin from behind his ear would suffice. "Noooo, I'm a millionaire, I have plenty of those" says Stark with a mischievous glint in his eyes "pull out something fancy! Surprise me, Oz. That's what you are good for, aren't you?"

You know that he said this just to rile you up. He doesn't mean it. He can't mean it.

It still hurts.

Did you really believe that you can be one of them? You thought you knew better by now. You are such a fool…

Your smile turns icy as you put your chair to the centre of the room and make a vague gesture to Stark which means he should sit there. While the man throws himself down to the chair with the others still cheering and joking and _laughing_, you take off your tie and undo the first few buttons of your shirt. Your glasses with darkened lenses - to partly hide your eyes - lie forgotten on the table along with your tie. As you turn your icy glare at the man at the centre of the room, he shuts his mouth maybe for the first time ever. No wonder, really. For some, Death can be alluring like the sweetest nectar in the world, and you, being the Master of Death, can be the incarnation of that temptation.

You slowly walk closer to the billionaire, hips swaying lightly, and slide your arms around his shoulders before lowering yourself at his lap, legs parted wide at the sides of the chair. Tony's breath is coming out in short gasps, his pupils dilate while his hands touch your thighs almost hesitantly, before they come to rest at your waist. An uneasy atmosphere sets in the room as disbelief and arousal mix with _fear_, and oh, it leaves such an intoxicating taste in your mouth that you can hardly restrain yourself from letting out a deep groan. Instead you lean forward until your lips almost touch Stark's left ear, and your right hand slides down along his tie while you whisper in a tone bordering parseltongue: '_Serpensortia'_. Stark shivers as the light weight of his tie turns into something heavier and colder and _definitely moving_.

You give into the temptation and bit down lightly on the man's neck before you stand up and "accidently" drop the hissing snake into the surprised man's lap.

The screams that follow you through the corridors are well worth it.

* * *

_A/N: I know many of you think that I was too harsh with the Avengers and they didn't really mock Harry, etc., etc., etc., but notice here that Harry was mocked in all of his life, and he has some issues. This was some kind of "fuck the system" for him._

_And I know 'Serpensortia' creates a snake and not turns something into it, but I liked this version better. :P_

_I'm not sure I want to continue it. I have some ideas for about two chapters, but that's all. If I continue it, I will do it in drabbles or one-shots. Should I write them?_

_I'm also not sure if my style was all right or not. Please tell me your opinions! _

Please review! (Or I will steal Loki and won't give him back. Ever.)

A/N2: OK, I will continue it. You guys are so amazing, you gave me several ideas. :) And I will upload the next chapter here, and not as a separate story, as many of you alerted the story. But you will have to wait, because I still have exams. :S


	2. Prequel

**A/N: Hey, everybody! Sorry for the long wait, but I wanted to write this prequel as well as the next chapter before I updated this. **

**THIS IS A _PREQUEL_, SO IT HAPPENED _BEFORE_ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER! It just explains what happened with Harry before he met the Avengers.  
****I will upload the next chapter in one or two days (or sooner, if I got enough review…) :P**

**Warnings: (light) _slash,_ swearing**

**Many thanks to _Lucy in the Sky with Dimonds_ for being my beta, and to _Novus Ars_, who helped me through this chapter. Thank you, really! :)**

* * *

**Prequel**

You are sitting by the bare kitchen table, staring at the gleaming, flawless black ring, which was delivered to you this morning by _Hedwig_. You are shivering, too afraid to even look at your long dead owl. '_How __did __this __happen?_'

First of all, last time you checked, Hedwig was very much _dead_.

Also, the Gaunt ring was lying in the woods somewhere, with a crack going down in the middle of the dark stone. You dropped it there, and, in hope it will be lost forever, you never went to search for it.

Neither of the two should be sitting in your kitchen, whole again, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You get up from the white table, leaving behind the Hallow and the idly staring bird, and go back to the unmade bed. This is certainly just a bad dream – as soon as you fall asleep, you will be back in the real world.

* * *

"Welcome, Harry. How are you?" You smile warmly at McGonagall who came out to the castle gates to greet you. Last time you saw her – more than three years ago, just a week after the final battle with Voldemort – she looked ten years older than she really was. Now she looks at least thirty years younger; being the Headmistress of Hogwarts must have helped her.

You don't even reach the Great Hall before she asks about your life. You didn't tell anything to anyone – except Ron and Hermione – because you don't want others telling you what to do. You blame the Dumbledor-ish twinkle in her eyes, but you answer the old witch's question.

"I live in a small flat in the suburbs of London. Everything is entirely muggle around me, so the reporters can't find me, but it's still not isolated, like a small town would be."

"Isn't it too expensive?" You just laugh at her question.

"Money isn't an issue for me. I got quite a sum for killing off Voldemort," you hope she doesn't notice your smile turning forced. "So Ron, Hermione and I decided to take a few years off; we thought we deserve it, after our hellish year being on the run and all," You realize halfway that you said too much. Well, it's too late by now. You have to listen to the lectures of the former Head of Gryffindor through the rest of the journey.

When you finally reach McGonagall's office, she gives the password to the gargoyle with a strict and disapproving look directed towards you, but she still turns back and leaves you alone, just like you agreed on before. It was really hard to convince the professor to leave you on your own in the office, but after three days of pleading and swearing that you won't touch anything, except what you really must, and also promising you won't ruin her office, she gave in. You told her that you needed to be there in order to get rid of something in connection to the war. She probably came to the conclusion that you wanted to talk to Dumbledore's portrait, but your pride wouldn't let you tell it to her. Well, as long as she leaves you alone, you are perfectly okay with her theory.

You step into the office and begin to look for Gryffindor's Sword immediately; trying not to notice how much the room changed since Dumbledore's… death. You no longer avoid this simple fact, but that doesn't mean you want to look up at the portrait of the previous headmaster.

You hear a forceful tapping by the window, and you go and let in the owl out of reflex, so it can drop off its burden at the headmistress' desk to be examined later. You don't curse anymore when you realise it's Hedwig, who should be _dead_, but is not; and whose sudden return was not just a weird nightmare your mind came up with. She perches herself on the back of Minerva's chair, and you can only hope that she won't leave a nasty surprise there for the Headmistress.

At the back of the office, just beside the Sorting Hat, lies the Sword. One would think McGonagall, with her Gryffindor pride, would cherish it more than that: putting it behind a glass or hanging it up on the wall, not leaving it to gather dust on a shelf.

You quickly pick it up before laying the Resurrection Stone down at the middle of the office's stone floor. "I'm sorry, Hedwig," you glance at the panicked, wildly hooting owl one last time, before you lift the Sword over your head, and even though every fiber of your being protests, you bring it down swiftly. You think your heart would break in two just before the Sword could touch the Stone, but you cannot stop the movement any more, even though your instincts are screaming that you are doing something incredibly _wrong_ and you know you _shouldn__'__t_ be doing this.

The blade easily enters the Stone, stopping only when nothing but the metal ring holds the Hallow together. For a moment, everything stills. Then your chest feels like it wants to explode, Hedwig is hooting wildly, and you cannot do anything but watch as your beloved familiar's feathers fall off her body and she drops dead; the signs of decay already noticeable on her form. The scent of rotten flesh makes you remember your terrifying visions with Voldemort, where you could see every torture, could hear every scream, feel all the pains and the warmth of the victims' blood on your hands…

Then abruptly, purple light enters your vision, and you feel a sudden force, throwing you into the wall behind you. Everything is fuzzy for a moment. Then, in the next moment, you realize that you are lying on your back, and the Sword is lodged into the stone floor just inches away from your left ear... Well, that was close. You hear a distorted 'hoot', before something white and heavy drops onto your chest and bites your nose so hard that you are seeing stars even five minutes later.

* * *

You are running towards the castle gates. You left quite in a hurry, before McGonagall could find out that you'd ruined her office. You will make a firecall and apologise that way, when you have the proper distance between you and your former professor.

You almost reach the gates when you catch a glimpse of something moving near Dumbledore's tomb. You pause, glancing at the gates desperately, which would guarantee safety and freedom to your poor self. You hesitate too much, because in the next moment Hedwig drops from your shoulder to the ground in order to get out from under your invisibility cloak, and she takes off towards the graves. You curse before you wrap your cloak tighter around yourself, and follow your damned not-so-dead owl.

You find her sitting on the top of Dumbledore's grave. When you get close enough, she takes off again, but you no longer pay her any attention. Something is not quite right. Screw that, something is definitely _wrong_.

You are searching through your pockets for your wand, almost snarling when you only find the once again undamaged ring in the pocket of your trousers, before remembering that you are actually holding that blasted piece of wood in your left hand ever since you left the headmistress' office.

You hastily stick out your hand from under the cloak before sending a jet of purple light at the tomb, too busy watching as it lifts up the top stone to notice that you have never even heard of that spell before.

This moment marks the last semi-normal day of your existence.

The stone barely moves to the side an inch when something shoots out of the gap, hitting you at in the chest so hard that your body forgets how to breathe. But in the next few minutes it's the last of your concerns.

You quickly grab the offending object, and you realize it's the Elder Wand just in time to see it turning into dust. Really, you shouldn't be surprised when the dust makes its way into your nose and mouth, choking you even more. The hole that the Resurrection Stone burns into your thigh almost goes unnoticed, because your Invisibility Cloak suddenly feels so heavy that you are sure it broke some of your bones._ '__Is __it __some __kind __of __revenge __for __what __happened __in __the __office?__'_

Thankfully, you pass out before you could even hit the ground.

When you wake up, you are hurting all over, can't find the Resurrection Stone, your original wand explodes in your hand, and you are _bloody __invisible_.

It takes you a week to realize you are actually _not_ dead, and another two to find a way to turn visible again.

* * *

Five years has passed since the final battle. Two since the 'Hallow Incident'. One since Fred Weasley's ghost showed up at the Burrow, when you were there too.

It happened during a family gathering. Everyone had a great time, when suddenly Fred glided into the room casually, instantly freezing the room. He had never said what happened between his death and showing up, nor did he reveal why or how did he come back, but you could make an educated guess.

You are sitting in the backroom of the WWW shop, trying to ignore the tension between you and your two best friends. Things were not going as smoothly as you wanted since the 'Hallow Incident'. Strange things happened around you all the time, and you could never explain them. You still have to use a stick of wood to hide your wandless abilities, and you always have to make up an excuse why can't Ron borrow your Invisibility cloak, or why do you keep around a bird resembling Hedwig so uncannily, when it's clearly unhealthy, according to Hermione. These small things put a strain on your relationship, and you are sure it won't take long before they lose their patience with you, or you get fed up with all the nagging and just snap.

You are so immersed with Fred, whose form is getting less and less transparent every time he gets near you, that you don't see the mischievous glint in Ginny's eyes as she drops something into a cauldron of Instant Aging potion. The explosion following it is too noticeable to miss.

You quickly vanish the smelly goo covering you, trying not to laugh too hard at Hermione's face, who is screaming like a banshee with her fists clenched.

"Hermione, please! It's just an aging potion! It will only turn you five years older for a day, not burn your skin off!" Ginny shouts, trying to drown out Hermione's voice.

You look around, and just as Ginny said, everybody looks five years older. Not only in wrinkles and such, but their hair and nails grew quite a bit too. Side effect of the potion, it seems.

You sweep your waist-long hair out of your face, grinning at Fred, who, being a ghost, is the only one unaffected by the potion, before you realize it's too silent in the room. You sigh. Not again!

"Okay, guys, what is it this time?" You ask in a resigned tone, even as every muscle in your body goes taut, ready to flee if necessary. It may be a good idea, seeing the fear and confusion on everyone's face.

"Harry…" Hermione's voice is shaking, and she takes a step back, instead of getting closer to you – never a good sign. This will be pretty bad, you just feel it. "You were affected by the potion too. You have longer hair and nails, just like us," she analyses the situation. Right. Then it can't be _that_ bad. "But why have you not aged?"

'_Oh, shit.'_

This is the moment you apparate out.

* * *

You have spent the last three hours staring at your reflection in the mirror. There are people outside of your wards, trying to break it down, but you don't even notice their attempts.

You are twenty-two. With the potion, twenty-seven. And apparently, you look like a fucking twenty-year-old. Your life officially sucks.

You swallow hard, before you touch your long hair with both of your hands – your nails became short again, though you don't remember why or how it happened – and although you want to scream until your throat bleeds, you only let your magic float gently into your locks, reducing them short again. You go to the kitchen and start making a tea, as your magic releases the hold on the wards, allowing whoever is outside to walk into your little flat.

The door is blown in, spraying splinters of wood into your cup.

"You could have just opened the door by the handle, you know," you say it in a matter-of-fact tone, trying to fish out the splinters from your tea. You shouldn't have bothered with it, as in the next moment the cup is pushed out of your hand and breaks into million little pieces, while you are being choked by the bushy hair of a sobbing Hermione Granger. You look up over her shoulder, shocked, and see half of the Weasley clan lingering not far from you, relief written over their faces.

"We were afraid you would do something… stupid," Bill offers at your questioning look. "When you left, Ron contacted me, knowing you would lock yourself up. I tried to get in sooner, but your wards…"

Ron, who is holding a rather exhausted looking Ginny in his arms, turns to you and says what you needed to hear the most, "Don't scare us like that again, all right, mate? Something is very wrong here, but that doesn't mean we won't stand by you, whatever happens, you know."

When you see Fred and George nod their heads in the background, you burry your face into Hermione's hair and desperately try not to let your tears fall.

* * *

First you try to hide the fact that you don't age from the public. It's just that the public usually makes it impossible to hide anything from them.

It's been almost two months since the Weasley family found out about your status as the Master of Death – half of them at the accident with the potion, the others when you told them at the next whole-family dinner -, and your friendship with Ron and Hermione became stronger than before. There were still some awkward moments, like when you tried to explain why you can't bring back Fred fully, but those were easily forgotten.

You are walking down in the crowded streets of Diagon Alley, laughing on Ron's joke, when a spell hits you from behind. You are dizzy for a moment, and maybe you even pass out, because there is a completely blank minute in your memory. The next thing you know is that you are standing in the middle of the street, hands stretched out in front of you, and a few metres ahead of you the walls are painted red. The crowd, pressed to the walls, are watching you with fear and awe mixed in their eyes. You are not too sure you want to know what happened, so you take the speechless Ron's arm, and apparate out of the deathly silent Alley.

Next morning, when the Daily Prophet arrives, you get to know that the spell which hit your back was the Killing Curse, sent by a powerful Death Eater, who was surrounded by purple light before he exploded into tiny little pieces.

Though it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, you dismiss the event. Maybe the Killing Curse was not powerful enough, and you haven't sent any spell at the man, right?

When you notice your hands are ice cold and shaking, you realize you are still not too good at lying to yourself. The paper noisily slips from your numb fingers.

* * *

By the time you are twenty-four, you give up on trying to hide your new status. After the first assassination attempt, the remaining Death Eaters and dark wizards – even some light wizards too – got really desperate. Anywhere you went, someone tried to kill you. Each of them ended up dead.

After seeing you being blown up and the pieces putting themselves together with the help of some purple tendrils, Ron insisted you to enrol in Auror training. You three – yes, even Hermione, who was never an Auror-type – got in, even though it was the middle of November. You all got special training, so Ron and Hermione could catch up with the others, while you got trained by the best Aurors even after your friends joined the regular training group. After a while, the Unspeakables turn up at your training. It's just a few days after it that you begin to get regular invitations for tea with the Minister of Magic. As it turns out, he is quite afraid of you. Maybe it's because you seem indestructible, but the Minister implies several times that he wouldn't stand in your way, if you wanted anything. Coward bastard.

* * *

You are standing at the back of the crowd, watching all the grieving faces. The funeral of Molly Weasley is a sorrowful event.

Your surrogate mother died in an accident while you were in Romania with your friends and Charlie. She was hit by a car when she went in to the muggle part of London for something. No one knew what it was.

You do not dare to go closer to the ceremony. You refused to bring back Mrs Weasley – not that you even _knew_ how to do it -, and though you know the family will get over it with time, you don't want to cause a scene right now with your presence. Although you miss her greatly, you are resigned. You know that death cannot be avoided – at least, not by normal people – and that you must let go of Molly Weasley, or else it will break you. At least you still have your friends, and you will be there for each other, even after this tragedy.

You are wondering what you will do when _they_ will be lying in a coffin, and you will be still standing here, alive, not aging.

You can't take this anymore.

* * *

You are twenty-eight in three months. You know you can't wait that long; you are too depressed even now. You can't bear it anymore.

Five months ago, after Molly's funeral, you began to talk about a mysterious – non-existent - lover you have. You never told a name, you only did 'accidental' slip-ups about this person.

Today you told Ron and Hermione that you are quitting the Auror training and you are going to travel with that someone in two weeks from now. When they asked for her name, you looked out of the window of your flat, desperately trying to come up with a name. How could you never make up one before this? You read out the first name that came into your sight.

You are still cursing "Alfred's Gym".

* * *

You are lying on your back in your bed, staring at the ceiling, ears still ringing from all the yelling about you leaving, running away from your family. When nobody was really bothered by your lover being a man, you began to think. Would it be really that bad to date another guy?

Maybe you should go out to a club and try to get someone for tonight. Probably a bloke, just to do something random and too weird, even by your standards. You've never done it before, but perhaps it will detour your thoughts from the depressing stuff.

* * *

It was a total disaster. You are not going to date. Ever. Again.

Not just guys, but girls either. No. Never.

* * *

Three days after you told your friends that you are leaving, you bring home a girl.

Next day, another.

Next it's a guy. After he left, you swear you are never going to do something this stupid ever again.

Next day, you bring home another guy. It looks like you can't keep your promises, even if you make them to yourself. By now, you are too numb to feel guilty.

* * *

You packed up everything you thought you would need – which was not much, by the way -, and left without a word to anyone.

* * *

OoO

* * *

You have been with the Avengers for almost two months.

Right now, you are trying to calm down the hysteric crowd and usher them down to an underground garage. San Diego – the next random city, where Loki decided to run amok – is a huge place, and the population is high, so it's not an easy task. You erect an invisible shield around the people, making sure no one gets hit by the flying pieces of concrete, steel, and wood. You are lucky that your magic, when you are using more of it, disables any and every electrical technology – including cameras - in a hundred foot radius. This way S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't know anything about how you save the civilians, just that you do it somehow. They don't even care, probably. From greater distances, filming the other Avengers is more interesting anyway.

You hear a huge 'boom', and you turn around quickly to see if you need to use your magic a little bit more in order to protect the people on the ground. What you actually see makes you swear so badly that a few people turn around to send you a reprimanding glance. You can't care less.

The explosion you heard was Tony Stark firing some kind of missiles at Loki, who was standing on top of a smaller building a few floors over the Iron Man, with his back turned. The little bombs almost hit the god, but at the last moment he turns around and manages to get out of the missiles way. The only problem? What goes up, must come down too. In this case it means a bomb into one of the buildings, where probably some people are still hiding.

You quickly make yourself invisible, and apparate where you suspect the bombs might fall. You miss the target by a few blocks, but you quickly correct your mistake, and throw a shield around the building, absorbing the blow effortlessly. You sigh in relief, before you hurry back to protect the citizens from those dancing monkeys who call themselves the Avengers.

* * *

**A/N: Next chapter is the Aftermath of the first chapter. I hope you don't want to kill me now. And remember: reviews make the author happy, and a happy author means quick update! So be nice, kids, and instead of chasing me around with a stick until I collapse, leave a review! :)**

**Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! I appreciate them, even if I don't answer them all. Thank you. ^^**

**Also, the next chapter is in third person. Don't be surprised!**


	3. Aftermath

**A/N: Here is the next chapter, because you are all such a sweethearts. ^^ Many thanks to _Novus Ars_ again! :D**

**It's in third person. Enjoy!**

* * *

Harry heard the door of his room in the Helicarrier opening, and with a resigned sigh, he dropped a grey shirt into his open trunk, which was lying on top of his bed. He closed his eyes for a minute, looking up only when a warm hand touched his shoulder.

"Hey, are you all right?" Coulson's honest smile was a great relief after months of fake ones from the Avengers. Who would have thought that the two of them are going to find comfort in each other's company?

"Do I look like I'm all right?" Harry asked, taking a step closer to the agent, whose arms came around the smaller man as he leant his head onto Phil's shoulder.

"You got in quite a mess, kid," Coulson sighed, running his hand slowly up and down on Harry's back. Before the wizard could have said anything, Phil let go of him and took a step back. Harry watched the other man curiously as he took out a flash drive of his pocket, and plugged it into the laptop lying on the table. "I thought you might like to watch it." Harry looked at him, unsure, but seated himself on his bed, turning the laptop so when Phil sat down beside him, they both could see the screen perfectly.

That evening was turning out to be more and more similar to the one which happened on Harry's very first day there…

* * *

It happened when Harry was brought to the Helicarrier at the first time. He just got dismissed by Director Fury, who explained to him quite vaguely in a 'don't-ask-anything-or-you-will-die' tone why he was basically abducted from his little forest and dropped off at the Helicarrier. Not that the wizard wanted to ask anything, but it was great to know he was welcomed. Harry just shrugged and went to find his room, where he should have stayed until someone brought him to the meeting next morning that Fury mentioned during his short explanation.

He locked the door of his new room and threw himself down onto the bare bed, trying to finally comprehend what the hell happened with him again. Not even ten minutes later someone was knocking on his door. Without even waiting for Harry to acknowledge him, the agent who brought the wizard here let himself in. Harry stood up quickly, only to be pushed back down onto the bed, getting a laptop shoved into his face, and be forced to watch himself on a video as he goes out of Fury's office, and not seeing anyone else, finds the way to his room on his own. It wouldn't have been so bad if he didn't use a pen – in the absence of a wand – and an advanced version of the _Point Me_ spell. Oh, well…

That night, he told Coulson almost everything. Next morning, the agent erased every trace of the video about him, reporting back to Fury that Harry ran into him shortly after leaving the boss' office, and so he showed him to his room. The agent who was supposed to be waiting for Harry just outside Fury's door was fired by noon.

After that, the black haired man got frequent visits from Coulson. He was the only one – aside from those who watched the cameras, but they knew when to hold their mouth – who knew about him being a wizard. The two quickly developed a close friendship, giving Harry someone to talk to without the fear of being exposed to the media or Fury.

* * *

Apart from that one night, Phil rarely brought the videos with him; only if it was something big or incredibly stupid. Though those things usually went hand in hand in Harry case…

The video for that night began with Harry dropping his fork into his plate.

He turned to his friend, surprise written all over his face. He's been living on the Helicarrier for months and sometimes he still managed to forget about cameras being absolutely _everywhere_. Yes, he shouldn't have been so shocked over that there were cameras in that little room too, which has been unused until the Avengers decided they needed a private dining room, but he couldn't help it. Living in the Wizarding world for so many years had that effect on him.

"Don't give me that look!" Phil said, laughing. "What did you think, what was on the video?" Harry would have guessed it being about when he opened his door with a small motion of his wrist instead of the usual method because he was too distracted to pay attention to what he was doing, but it seems that nobody noticed that one. "I won't scold you for this one, even though I was forced to save your ass. Again. This is the only copy of the recording," Phil put an arm around the wizard's shoulders and pulled him closer, his smile fading. "Though I think you've gone too far now. I don't think I can cover this one up." The dark haired man just nodded, unable to form an actual answer, and turned back to the screen.

* * *

On the video, a very smug looking Harry Potter just left the room, managing to leave behind more chaos than Loki, the God of Mischief ever could. The video was a little blurry for a few seconds from even that minimal use of Harry's magic, but it cleared up not long after he left. Tony Stark, swearing like a sailor, grabbed the snake hissing around his neck as soon as he could, and quickly threw it across the room. The only problem with that? The other Avengers standing just there.

After too much yelling, cursing, even more yelling, and a high pitched scream which definitely _didn't_ come from Natasha, a dagger found its way into the poor animal's head, making it disappear through a puff of smoke. There was a moment of absolute silence, only broken by the Hulk's loud, ragged breaths, as he stood in the corner with one leg up and hands held out protectively in front of his face. Then Clint cleared his throat and jumped down from the table to help up Steve, who's been knocked off of his feet by the too hastily retreating Thor. The said god coughed some, before collecting the blade and giving it back to Natasha with a quiet 'Thanks'. The woman stopped muttering about 'stupid, incompetent men' just long enough to flash a predatory grin at the blond man. "Nice scream, Thor."

"The snake didn't frighten me at all," he denied, even without being accused of it. "My brother often did that trick at home. I was merely… delighted to see it." Through his little speech, the man grew more and more red, resembling more of a tomato by the end than a Norse god. Natasha just scoffed, and turned back to the table.

"What the hell was that?" Tony's sudden exclamation was backed up by the clearly distraught Bruce, who just managed to turn back into his human form. It was lucky that he succeeded in gaining some control over the Hulk during their continuous fights with Loki, or the Avengers would have been in a big trouble.

"There goes your drug addict theory…" Clint murmured, referring to Tony's great idea about wizards. The archer threw himself into one of the chairs that Natasha but back to the table, earning himself an annoyed look by the said assassin. Even when all of them were seated again – even Tony, betraying his distress -, all of them just sat there looking at each other, not knowing what to do now. They've been in tough situations before; Loki made sure they never got bored. But this was different. This was about one of them. Harry was part of the Avengers, even if he wasn't particularly strong or brave or clever or…

"Oh, god, how could we miss that?" Steve's voice was laced with guilt and anger directed at his own blindness in the case of Harry. Everyone looked remorseful and uncomfortable, but it was Bruce's next question, which made them all freeze in their seats.

"Shit. Do you think Fury knows of this?" before anyone could think about an answer, Natasha slammed her hand down onto the table top.

"What in hell was it, anyway?"

Steve, always the clear headed type, tried to solve the situation quickly, in case they needed to act and… capture Harry. "Maybe we should go to Fury–"

"And admit we didn't know anything about the boy? No way! It's bad enough that he managed to scare the Hulk out of Bruce," the billionaire began, without taking notice of the scowl directed at him by the professor, "but to admit that no one knows anything about him, a potentially dangerous man, who has been living with us for months… Fury would never let us live it down."

Before anyone could snap at Tony for thinking only about himself _again_, Natasha stood up from the table. "We should go to bed. If anyone saw that little… _performance_ on the security camera, they will report back to Fury. If he didn't know about this either, he will contact us; and if he did, he will have a good laugh on Thor's scream, and that's all. I'm tired and want to sleep. Good night" and with that, the woman left the room swiftly.

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Steve began to talk again: "I'm not sure… I think we should still see Fury–"

"Oh, knock it off, Cap! Everything is all right. I had enough for today, too," Tony said with a fake yawn. "Good night, people!"

And with that, the billionaire walked out of the room, and the video ended.

* * *

Harry sat on his bed, glaring at the laptop screen even after Coulson switched it off. "Is it only me, or Stark was really…"

"He came to the room where we hold the recordings after he realized that they are on a completely separate computer system, so he couldn't hack into it from afar," Phil explained, a smug smile visible on his face. "I was there, of course, and kicked him out before he could do anything about it."

Harry didn't even bother with questioning how the agent was always at the right place. Sometimes he was pretty sure that Phil knew about a lot more than Fury did.

"I _knew_ he gave up too easily!" Harry wanted to say it in a cheerful tone; it's a shame, really, that Phil always knew when he was pretending.

"I think you impressed him. He would never admit it though." Phil said with a laugh. "Harry…" he sighed, before sitting back down next to the wizard. "They are not bad people. If you gave them a chance–"

"I already did!" he jumped up and began to space in the small room. "Several times, in fact! But I'm sick of it all! I can't take this anymore, Phil. I can't stay here…" his anger just disappeared by the end, leaving behind only depressed resignation. "You don't know how hard it is already for me. I have to hold back everything. And even then, it's almost never enough. I slip up more and more, Phil. What if this time, Fury will get a wind of what happened? I can defend myself pretty well, but if he surprises me, I can't guarantee that he will live to see the next day. And this is true for anyone, who could be a treat for me," his voice turned to a desperate whisper. "I'm dangerous, Phil, and I can't control it until I succumb to it fully. But then there will be no turning back…"

There was a moment of absolute silence, before Phil stood up with a sigh and put the last few clothes from the drawer into the still open trunk. Harry watched in awe as the man shut the lid and closed his eyes, hands lying on the top of the trunk. Then the agent turned to him, the forced smile on his face made him look older than he really was.

"Phil…"

"Go, Harry. You are right. I just… will… Will I see you again?"

"You will." Harry said it with such a certainty that it almost convinced Phil himself. They stood there for a moment, just staring at each other, but then the wizard turned his eyes towards the trunk, and stepped closer to it, trying to lift it up. He could barely lift it a few inches, before the agent pushed it back down. "Phil…?" The man smiled at him, stepping closer to Harry.

"Stark got a parting gift, but I don't get anything?" his arms came up to wrap around Harry's waist, but unexpectedly the wizard just vanished from between his arms. He stood there, dumbfounded, blinking at the place where Harry stood just a moment before.

"What, do you want a snake into your neck, too?" a soft voice whispered into his ear, making him shiver as his breath caught in his chest, heart beating fast. The hot breath on his neck felt like liquid fire, but when he turned around to capture the source of his sudden problem, no one was there.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you all liked it. What do you think? How was Phil? And the others? Are you interested in some more? ;)**

**Please, be a dearie and leave me some review! I had a rather bad day, but I still uploaded this chapter. Now, make my day better! (Yes, it's a command. I still have Loki, you know…)**

**P.s.: I WILL continue it, but I'm on holiday and I spend around one or two days per week at home, and then I have better things to do than to write, sorry. :S**

**P.p.s.: I'm working on the next chapter, but my life is still pretty messed up. university started again, and every time I have a brain in my head instead of cotton candy, I work on some assignment for school. But I _WILL_ continue this, as this story is constantly on my mind and I desperately want it out of my system.**


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